Do you ^ 
Remember . 



HARRISON 




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COPYRIGHT DEPOSnV 



DO 
YOU REMEMBER? 



By 
JENNIE HARRISON , JU._«. 

^ Author of 

^^Whose Fault?'' 

^^Poems of Life and Light" 

A Fisherman's Daughter" 
Choir Boys of Cheswick" 
^'Girls of St. Andrews," Etc. 






COCHRANE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
TRIBUNE BUILDING, NEW YORK 

1909 






Copyright, 1909, 

BY 

COCHRANE PUBLISHING CO. 



248483 



FOREWORD. 

I promised the Englishman long ago, that I would 
write about those glad old days, when youth and happi- 
ness went hand in hand. And presently, he will come in, 
and shaking his shapely head, will say : "Ah, you have 
not written it yet !" thinking perhaps, ''You are not brave 
enough! It hurts you to think of those good days!" 

Very likely. 

But you know how it is, in looking at an oil painting, 
a portrait. You must stand away at just the right dis- 
tance, or your picture is blurred and indistinct. 

So I — I could not write of those dear days when they 
were too near. I must needs wait until I had left them 
so far behind, that all would stand out clear and un- 
blemished ; not a blur, not a blot, to mar the fair picture. 
I think now that I am old enough to see that picture 
fairly — without envy or jealousy — without partiality, and 
without injustice. 

As I stand before it, to-day it seems a very bright 



4 FOREWORD 

canvass. It smiles at me with the eyes and the Hps of 
many a cherished friend. And there are only just 
shadows enough to emphasize the glowing sunlight. All 
defects are hidden away; all delinquencies are covered 
with a mantle of tenderness. 

And so, my comrades, I show you those old days — 
those dear, foolish, happy days. Let us look at each 
other, you and I, just as we were, in youth's gala dress, 
the sunlight in our faces and the joy in our hearts. 



Do You Remember? 



I. 

Did the sun ahvays shine? Yes, I think so. Was it 
always soft Summer-time, in the old Home? I think so. 
We all thought so. 

The gleam and the warmth seemed to settle upon each 
one of us, as the days dawned, and the birds began their 
songs. 

The robins ! how they sang ! It seemed as if they knew 
all about it! "And the evening was, and the morn- 
ing Was" — both so glad, so full of joy and hope. 

Oh, those nights ! Did the moon ever hide her happy 
face ? Not from us, indeed ! We stood, always in the 
soft shimmer; and darkness had no meaning for us. 

"In night's still calm," sang our tenor, with his voice 
thrilling all hearts. 

*Tn night's still calm. 
When sleep's soft balm 
Is wooing thee to sweet repose." 

How deeply sympathetic his voice was, with its clear, 
metallic ring ! And how the chords on the piano re- 
sounded, through the long room, at the Big Boy's touch! 

What a boy, truly, he was! 

It is good to keep the boy heart, as one goes on 
through life's scorching sands, and one's feet ache and 



6 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

grow weary with the roughness of the way. He has kept 
his boy heart always: even now, when (can it be?) he 
has as big a boy himself who says ''father" to him ! 

Oh, Time ! relentless Time ! how you tear our hearts 
with your changes ! Nothing against you, Big Boy Num- 
ber Two, that we did not have you, in those dear old 
days ! It is old Father Time — not you, at whom we are 
railing. 



How he did finger those keys ! our Boy ! Occasionally 
he would coax the Little Housekeeper to play a "four- 
hand" with him — on purpose, I used to think, to frighten 
her with his ''Allegro! allegro !" 

How she raced, to keep in time with him ! and how 
alarmed she used to look, lest she should come out a 
half-beat behind ! 

Were they all laughing at her? Perhaps. But they 
knew she would not mind. 

It is so good, to know those in whom we have be- 
lieved ! And, dear friends, there is no irreverence in the 
expression. I say it with a reverent and thankful heart 
— we knew in whom we believed, in those old, glad days I 
It was half the joy of living. 

Do we find the world so true, in these later times? 
Ah, well ! we have had our day ! 

We had our weaknesses : oh, yes ! 

*T have a little headache. If you will excuse me, I 
will go to my room." 

We heard our Sweet Singer say it to The Little 
Housekeeper, on occasions when ''the game was not to" 
him. 

And then, "in night's still calm," he slept away his dis- 
appointment, while we smiled indulgently. Was he not 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 7 

our Sweet Singer? And always he was '^all right in the 
morning." 

He would pause midway on the stairs, to look back 
and say, "I shall be all right in the morning !" 

And he was. He never failed us. 



8 ' DO YOU REMEMBER? 



11. 

How much it meant to us, in those days — the winning 
or the losing of a game ! 

But the game was not just a ''game," with ''balls" and 
"mallets" and ''stakes," and fine points to be made! It 
was the sweet out-of-doors, the lights and shadows, the 
soft grass, the bird-calls, the companionship and the 
pleasant little by-play of words and looks, which in youth 
means so much ! 

How character used to show itself on that grassy field ! 

I can see the faces, and hear the voices yet ! the laugh- 
ing mien and careless shout of our Big Boy; the calm 
smile and correct diction of our Champion Player; the 
nervous stroke of our Little Housekeeper; the proud 
announcement — "That is my partner, ladies !" of "C. B. 
H.," when the Sweet-tempered One made a particularly 
effective move ! 

Dear C. B. H. He has left us, for the Better Land. 
And we miss his cheery voice and his ready help. He 
was always eager to do something for somebody. He 
did a great deal for many people : we shall not know 
how much, until we stand before our Master, and hear it 
said unto our friend : "Inasmuch as ye have done it 
unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have 
done it unto Me." 

Often, in those old days of plays and games, there was 
a croquet ball lacking some hand to use it, to make an 
even "team." Our Wise One named this ball "Mary 
Ann;" and C. B. H. used to play it in turn with his own 
ball; playing prettily, at the same time, with the plain 



DO YOU REMEMBER? Q 

name, which by and by we learned to know stood for so 
much to him. 

Yes, he won his "Mary Ann"; and they had many 
happy wedded years together. 



Who is this that I see coming out through the woods 
toward the players ? 

I am back in the old days ! and it is the Young Clergy- 
man — our Young Clergyman ! 

He has left the Httle church among the trees ; and is 
smiling at us indulgently. 

Oh, yes ! he will "take a hand," and play it well, too ! 

We like to have him. He is a trifle romantic to be 
sure ! but some of us can bear that ! And he looks at 
the Easy-going One as if perchance she may lack a part- 
ner. 

It is not a Church day — no. But our Young Clergy- 
man likes to come home by that little path which winds 
through the sweet, still woods, and under the low 
church windows. 

Perhaps there will be a "choir practice" to-night; and 
he has been leaving some word for the faithful, who help 
him in the Services. 

They are faithful. They give of their best; and he 
accepts it, thankfully. 

"Are," did I say? Why, I am dreaming of the old 
days ! — dreaming ! and I awake, to remember that some 
of those voices are silent now to us. But "beyond the 
River" they know never a false note ! not a discord, nor 
an envious thought ! 

There are no "First" and "Second" sopranos there t 



10 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

How the dear "First." with her bright face, comes be- 
fore me as I write! She knew she sang well. Verily, 
so did our sweet "Second" ! And we, who listened, loved 
them both so well, we could not chose between ! 

The Leader — whose very soul was set to music — was 
ever a peace-maker, putting in his "bit of bass," as he 
called it, like a sweet thread, to harmonize all. 

All that was good in us came out at his magic touch. 

Dear Leader! what joy he finds, now, in the "New 
Song" of that Better Land I 



What has become of our gswne? and of our young 
clergyman ? 

For the latter, he is boasting to the Sweet-tempered 
One of how they twO' have won the game — or would 
have done so, had not the supper bell summoned us all 
to leave the sunset light and the witchery of balls and 
mallets ! 

There are some of us, however, who remember well 
how that same supper bell was often heard with serene 
scorn, because of the intense interest and excitement of 
the game, which being so "close," none dared to say 
who might win : or because perchance three or four 
heads are bending together over a certain ball and 
wicket, and somebody, who carries them in his vest 
pocket, is striking matches, to give light on the all-im- 
portant subject under discussion — whether that ball 
really is through the wicket or not I 

Ah ! how foolish it all seems, as we look back upon 
it, through the years which have made us wise! 

Wise, did I say? Ah, God help us! but the dear old 
foolishness seems better to us than all the wisdom we 
have so hardly gained ! 



DO YOU REMEMBER? n 



III. 

"Monday is always a holiday," remarked our Young 
Clergyman, peering along the dim parlor, to see who was 
there. 

''Let us play to-day," he added coaxingly, as he dis- 
covered the Easy-going One in a cozy corner. 

"What shall we play?" asked the Little Housekeeper, 
with a careful thought of meals to be served. 

What did we decide upon ? Who remembers ? 

For, after all, the talking it over, with the merry jests 
and suggestions, was almost, if not quite as good, as any 
real performance. 

Perhaps it was a long ride, through shady roads and 
along the sun-kissed river. 

Can you close your eyes, and see that river, my friends 
of long ago? 

How it used to sparkle and dance ! modest little river, 
that carried so often happy hearts upon its bosom ! 

Did we ever know a fear, we reckless, laughing 
creatures? Were not all things made for our enjoyment? 



She handled the oars very deftly, that Thoughtful 
One, whose pretty arms and hands were at the service 
of "the girls," v/henever they chose to be independent 
of the male members at The Home. 

Did not the Little Housekeeper whisper to me, once, 
with tears in her eyes, that she had been frightened, on 
one occasion, by the waves of a passing steamer, when 



12 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

the Thoughtful One was rowing, and fooHshly screamed, 
putting her hands over her eyes. 

"And then," said she, ' "I looked up at the dear 
Thoughtful One's face, and — well, somehow I shall 
never forget the look upon that face ! I knew then how 
truly she loved me !" 

It was rather romantic of the Little Housekeeper, 
possibly a little silly. She was always inclined to be ro- 
mantic. Perhaps that is why she always had a good 
word for the Young Churchman. How many such 
words I have heard her speak of which he did not know ! 
She had plenty of kindly ones face to face with him, 
also. And yet — ^and yet — his preference was always for 
our Sweet-tempered One ! 

Who can blame him? 

But she was very shy and distant and dignified. 

Did not she remember one long, delightful day, spent 
in gazing at famous pictures, in company with the 
Young Theolog? 

And what were ordinary days, after that? — and who 
were ordinary Young Churchmen? 

"A Red Letter day — with a Red Letter Saint !" some 
one wickedly suggests. 

Poor Young Churchman — standing calmly in his six- 
foot hopefulness — and suspecting nothing! 

Dear, honored Young Theolog ! — you have gone far 
from us, since those old, care-free days ! 

Why did you? 

We miss you so! And were not the "old paths" good 
enough, secure enough for you, as for us? 

Dear erratic one ! our hearts are sad for it all. We 
feel that vacant spot where you should he! That pulpit, 
that prayer desk, seem forever needing just you! 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 13 

Forgive me ! I know, we all know, that you are hon- 
est, that you are led by your clear convictions. But, 
oh ! it does not seem like you ! 

Perhaps we may understand it all, in That Day when 
"all hearts are known." 

Erratic as our Young Theolog has come to be, we 
cannot forget him. 

Even now, when she is old, one among us can still 
recall his fine, clear tones, as he demonstrated the 
poetical beauty of 

"And the reapers, reaping early. 
In among the bearded barley." 

And she remembers how, with deferential politeness, 
he questioned our Little Housekeeper's accentuation, as 
she rendered Shelley's "Arethusa" : 

"Arethusa arose 

From her couch of snows 

In the Acroceraunian mountains." 

That "Acroceraunian" was the word in question ! 

Ah, well ! At least, in the kindly heart and in the 
courtly manner of our Young Theolog, there was not a 
trace of "error" ! No keenest hierarchy of earth can find 
a flaw there! Neither Bishop, Priest, nor Deacon can lay 
a finger upon any false spot. No deepest probing can 
find anything that is not crystal pure in loyalty, honor 
and courtesy! 

But, oh, friend of our youth, we miss you from the 
ranks ! 



14 DO YOU REMEMBER 



IV. 

We loved that river! 

If I should tell you its name — its plain, every-day 
name, as it appears on the pages of your Geography — 
you would smile scornfully. 

But then, you do not know — you who did not belong 
among us — what zve knew of that little stream! 

Its ripples spoke rest and romance and fun to us. 
They told of long, idle, dreamy hours ; of song and story ; 
of pleasant pastime and of merry jest. 

There was no lack of ready hands to take the oars. 

"C B. H." and "Frank," his brother ; the EngHshman, 
and even the Young Churchman himself, all enjoyed it. 
But I think not one of them better than our Thoughtful 
One! 

I always loved to watch her row. She was so calm, 
so graceful in handling the oars ; so fearless for herself, 
so regardful for others ! 

"Miss Fan," also, was fond of rowing. But she was 
just learning and every one was patient with her. 

We must needs be patient with our "Miss Fan !" She 
had a sharp eye for all our weak points. We could not 
hope to escape her ! But how kind she was ; how ready 
to do gentle service for any of us ! 

Yes, we all loved our "Miss Fan." We love her still 
— those of us who are left. Our hearts beat with new 
gladness when we see her coming — "picking her way," 
as Tod used to say of her! — though like ourselves, she 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 15 

is somewhat older since those dear, foolish days. We 
know she is loyal yet. 



"Tod, — did I say? Ah! my pen halts in telling of 
him. There is not just ready the word of description 
our hearts would fain give him. Our hearts? Yes, I 
am speaking for all. I know that my comrades of those 
old days will sustain me ! 

Don't you know there are some natures so noble, so 
tender, so finely wrought, that we hesitate to portray 
them in our feeble words ? "Tod" was like that ! is like 
that! 

The little children love him, nestle to him. Dumb 
animals love him; they trust him. They know he is 
their friend. 

Certainly! for does not Tod (for all that the gray hairs 
have come) still rejoice in a wonderful canine creature 
called ''Bobby'' f Did not he seek out Bobby with a de- 
sire to bring comfort to sad and bereft hearts? 

They do comfort one so, these pathetic-eyed creatures, 
who seem to look at us with such a longing to tell what 
they feel! 

When Tod brought Bobby home, it seemed to me he 
knew what he was about ! 

I may add, just here, that our Tod generally does 
know what he_ is about ! 

How I wander! Can you feel surprise? — you who 
spent those fond, far-ofif, foolish days with me, in the 
old Home — ^the Home on the Hill? 

Dear old Home! — well named! Home always — until 
the light (his smile, so fatherly and tender) went out! 
nay, rather, was obscured for an hour, by dark clouds of 



i6 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

adversity ; only to shine again with finer lustre, nearer to 
Heaven, lower on earth ! 

Dear, lenient smile ! that made all hearts glad ; that 
gave us all such liberty ! 

Sometimes we used to think that smile said to us, 
"Oh, you foolish children ! what big things life holds for 
you, of which you know nothing ! Yes, I understand ! 
Go on, and be happy — be young, while you may!" 

And so we did. 



Do you see those long windows, all lighted? and that 
group gathered about the piano? 

It is Sunday evening; and they are singing hymns — 
choosing, each one in turn. 

And they seem never to tire ! On and on, the simple 
melodies flow. No one is left out in that "choosing." 

He, in the big armchair, says, "Let us sing No. 

for Mother, because 'mother' is among the saints at rest." 

She has left the Home on the Hill; but no one forgets 
her; no one forgets which hymn was her favorite. 

And there is a special tenderness in the voices that 
sing 

"Oh, Mother dear, Jerusalem." 

No one is forgotten in that service of song. The 
Thoughtful One has told me that she recalls (the 
Thoughtful One's memory is proverbially a wonderful 
memory!) — a time when the dear Mother of that home 
was living, and at the Sunday evening singing chose a 
hymn for the first-born son — then a student at a far- 
away Theological Seminary. She even remembers that 
special hymn, one popular at the time, "There's a light 
in the window for thee, brother." 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 17 

When our dear Thoughtful One "remembers/' we all 
bow our heads, and listen ! 

"And you taught me that new tune to 'Our blest Re- 
deemer, ere He breathed,' " some one says to our Sweet 
Singer. 

"And you taught me Paradise !" he replies, looking at 
her, with keen eyes full of meaning. Men say such 
things, at times ; and they sound very pretty. 

Some one else has "taught him Paradise," since those 
old days. 

"Paradise," to our Sweet Tenor, meant — well, it 
means some one special thing, to each man, and so to 
him ! But never mind ! We loved him, just the same. 
We have, each one of us, our own special weakness; 
and we want to be loved in spite of it. Do we not? 

^ ^ *Jr >!?■ ^l? >lr ■*!*' -^ 

T* ^ *!* *!* 'T" *T^ ^T" *#» 

"Oh, Paradise, Oh, Paradise, 

The world is growing old : 
Who would not be at rest and free 

Where love is never cold ?" 

Hark! Do you not hear that vibrating tenor, that 
sweet, tender soprano, — that 

Ah! — the lights are out! the old home is closed. We 
are out in the cold. 



"The thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts !" 



i8 DO YOU REMEMBER? 



V. 

The Little Housekeeper came to me, with perplexity 
in her face. 

"What can it be?" I said. "Are the two dusky 
maidens in rebellion? Or is the sun too hot for cro- 
quet ? Or do they all demand a Picnic, immediately, 
with no time for preparation?" 

"Oh, no." She smiled sadly. "Do you know, I think 
our Young Clergyman is in love?" 

"Well, and why not? Who has a better right?" 

"But it worries me!" 

"I see it does !" 

"He worries me !" 

"Oh!— it is you, then?" 

"Do be serious ! No ; he doesn't want me ! — he wants 

But I don't think I will tell you. You would only 

tease him! and — and — ^well, I believe it is a serious mat- 
ter with him, poor fellow !" 

"Oh, you are too sympathetic. Any man can look out 
for himself, in such a case !" 

But I knew my rebuff would do no good. She would 
just go on, warming the heart of that foolish young 
clergyman with her sympathy ! And after all, what 
would it avail? If he really were in love. 

Well, there was not much doubt of that ! We soon all 
began to see it. He was so young, and so desperately in 
earnest ! 

After all, have we not each one of us had our turn? 
Has there not been a time for each one, when all life 
hung and centred upon that one pivot — Love, love? 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 19 

' Do you know — or do you want to know how it pros- 
pered — the Young Churchman's suit Well, I can tell 
you this much : — he is married now, and happy, doing his 
work in the world and in the Church, And it seems to 

me I have heard it said that he is a grandf Sh ! sh! 

— I did not mean to tell you that! 

But I think I am right in believing that nothing, nor 
time nor change, — can ever take from him, nor from us, 
the glow and the warmth of those old days, when per- 
haps we could not compass all that our hearts desired; 
yet when, despite all, we were so happy, so full of ro- 
mance — so young! 

I think the Englishman will agree with me. 1 will 
ask him, when he comes in again. 

The Big Boy and the Wise One were so very pro- 
nounced in their views of the Young Churchman's love 
affairs ! You see, they, too, were young, and thought 
they held the "casting vote" in their hands. 

We did not mind them! We let them pronounce on 
this or that, with the vehemence of youth, and smiled 
at them leniently. 

The Thoughtful One said they were right. And Miss 
Fan agreed ! While a voice from the big armchair spoke 
calm wisdom, and patience with us all — who' were such 
children I 



After all — oh, ye advocates of "the simple life"— what 
did it matter, since we could assemble about the dining 
table at night, and dispose of a fair-sized watermelon? 

Our "man John" raised fine melons ; and was never 
better pleased than when we sent him word that we 
wanted a big watermelon, or several of his musk- 
melons, for which he had names the most varied. 



20 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

Oh, yes ! we could eat and drink, notwithstanding our 
romances ! 

Don't you remember? Certainly, no pleasanter picture 
comes to my memory than that of the long table, in the 
lighted dining room, with the youthful faces clustered 
round it ! 

What arguments were held about that table ! what 
jokes were perpetrated! and what music of laughter and 
gay voices sounded there ! 

What tales that old sideboard could tell ! What scenes 
its polished surface might reveal ! 

What a picture gallery stands before me! 

Do you see it, dear friends? 

Do you remember? 

"The Celibate," "The Englishman," "The Young 
Theolog," "The Champion Player," "Sam Patch" (he 
who once rode on ''jacks" out West!), "The Wise One," 
''The Sweet-tempered One," "The Sweet Soprano," 
with her Little Sister always close at hand; "The Big 
Boy," and his little sister — ah ! it was a goodly array ! 

And we were all 

"So united. 
So happily allied." 

I wonder, sometimes, if you ever recall those old days 
— you, now scattered over the world's cold highways ; if 
you remember, as well as I do, the faces about that 
table — his of the big armchair at the head, and the little 
housekeeper's at the foot; if you remember the jest and 
the repartee, the music and the games, the free-masonry 
and the gladness, the happy mornings and the merry 
nisrhts of the old home on the hill ! 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 21 



VI. 

Sometimes I think, if I am ever allowed to enter 
Heaven, I shall go straight up to one or another there, 
and say, "Do you remember those days at the old Home, 
when we sat on the shady piazza, and worked and read 
aloud? or "Do you remember that rainy day Picnic at 
the Falls of the river?" or "Do you remember how we 
used to sing "Rounds'?" 

Perhaps they do not "remember," in that Better Land. 

But at least here, in this lower sphere, it is one great 
source of delight ! 



"Rounds !" How the old halls rang with them, as we 
sat in the dim twilight! 

No lights were ever in demand, in those blessed twi- 
light hours. We loved the semi-darkness. It seemed to 
bring out the best that was in us. We spoke more 
freely ; our hearts expanded ; and kindness and love cast 
a glow through all the place. 

No one ever took undue advantage of it, however. 
Even our Young Churchman was discreet; though the 
tones of his voice held a plea — such a plea ! — if one girl 
had only listened. 

In the dim light, we could sometimes see the Big 
Boy's hand in the air, beating time, as we sang 

"June, lovely June 

Now beautifies the ground; 

The notes of the cuckoo," etc. 



22 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

And surely, had there been a "cuckoo" anywhere in 
the vicinity, it would have recognized its mates, and 
come forward ! 

There was one Round which we all specially favored. 
It ran : 

"Come to dinner ! 
Come to dinner ! 
There's the bell," etc. 

We sang it at all hours, and in all places, not minding 
propriety. On the banks of the river, in the woods, or 
during our long drives. 

"Come to dinner!" 

Yes ; we always knew we might "come" ! 

Does it seem childish to you ? Perhaps it was so. But 
what would you not give to be that gay child again, 
looking out upon life with fearless gaze — and with a 
heart thrilling with glorious purposes, and keen with un- 
worn emotions? 

Ah ! what would I not give, if I might hear now, as 
I heard then, the Thoughtful One's happy tone, as she 
sang with her own peculiar emphasis : 

"Come to din — ner," or the Wise One's calm, un- 
wavering notes, or our Champion Player's clear, gay 
tenor ? 

The old, merry strain is lost! the chords are broken! 
Some of the dear ones are singing celestial harmonies; 
and we who are left — well, how can we sing the old 
songs, missing here and there a familiar voice that we 
loved so well? 

Listen! Is that her, coming down the stairs, singing 
softly : 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 23 



"I love its ringing, 
For it calls to singing. 



And the Big Boy takes up the strain, 
"I love its ringing," etc. 

Then the Little Housekeeper joins in at just the right 
turn (she was ever a severe critic of time!) : 

"The bell doth toll, 

Its echoes roll 

I love the sound full well." 

And if there is any one who misses a note, here or 
there, our Miss Fan does not hesitate to correct that 
one. Dear Miss Fan ! always so true herself, in every 
way! 

Even when our Sweet Singer volunteered to take his 
turn at reading aloud — was it not ''Bleak House"? Do 
you remember? — she would catch him up suddenly and 
sharply, now and then, when he changed the text, or 
added thereto. 

Oh, that reading of "Bleak House" ! — what endless 
fun, what tireless jokes, were founded upon it ! 

I think the immortal Dickens himself would have 
smiled indulgently at our nonsense. 

And the pathos ! — Ah, yes ! I myself saw a dimness of 
tears in the Tenor's eyes, as we read of "Jo" — poor Jo, 
who "didn't know nothink." 

Dear, true-hearted Tenor! May no more bitter tears 
ever dim his eyes! or, if they do (for none of us can 
escape, in this sad old world), may loving hands dry 
them for him always ! 



24 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

Reading aloud reminds me of how, once, some of us 
coaxed the German to read to us, from Jean Ingelow's 
poem, "Brothers and a Sermon." 

Do you remember the occasion, any of you? Well, 
some of us were inclined to tease, in those days. How- 
ever, sermons were much in his line. But we cared 
more for the accent, then, than we did for the sermon. 

We played with edged tools in those days ! 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 25 



VII. 

He was "all right, in the morning." 

Yes, and so, I think, we all were! 

When the old sun shone in at the windows, as the call 
to prayers summoned us, somehow our hearts took on 
fresh joy and hope. Each day was, truly, a "new day" 
to us, and a good day ! 

The call to prayers? Yes! 

Some among us were apt to be tardy in answering to 
that call — somewhat peremptory. 

Why "peremptory?" 

Because he of the knowing smile and the gracious 
word was in the habit of "catching trains," early trains 
to town. And he had brought up his family to habits of 
promptness — to have a time for everything, and to mark 
well that time. 

Some of us bless him to this day for that living by 
system which he taught us. How much it has saved us 1 
how much it has brought to us 1 that regularity of life, 
that marking of times and seasons ! 

Yet he was always tender toward the delinquents. 

Can you not see, now, one coming in late, with soft 
step and modest mien, to the morning prayer service, 
which she (or he) so loved? And yet — oh, that soft 
couch, in the morning, was so delicious — so tempting! 

We only smiled our forgiveness at the dear delinquent, 
knowing well that she (or he) was delinquent never, 
at heart, and in no other way ever tardy in doing the 
right thing! 



2.(> DO YOU REMEMBER? 

Why, I can see now, through all the "jasper wall" of 
Paradise, the tender smile of our Wise One, as she wel- 
comed the tardy comer! Not a glint of any reproof, 
not a touch of any superiority in it: only a cordial smile 
of greeting, bright as the ''new day." 

Oh, gates of Paradise, open to me, for just a mo- 
ment, until I can realize that dear presence, so true, so 
unfaltering for herself, yet so helpful to those who stum- 
bled! 

^ ie- ^ if. if. if if if 

I think that some few of us can yet recall the words 
of that morning prayer. Such homely, earnest words, 
which brought us near to the great heart of God ! 

Do any of you remember that plea for The Dear 
Father to suit out His "mercies to them and us, as Thou, 
in thine infinite wisdom, seest we each need?" 

Oh, what a resting place ! "as Thou seest we need !" 

Did not our foolish, weak, young hearts lean upon that 
strong rock, and leave their uncertainties there? 

After prayers, the breakfast bell rang out, clear and 
positive. 

Oh, you scattered ones, do you remember its tone? 
Would you like, just for one hour, to leave all the bustle 
and trouble and perplexity of life, and to steal softly into 
that breakfast room, meeting the glad faces, and joining 
the merry tongues? 

Ah ! — you can but remember ! And yet remembrance 
is very sweet to some of us. 

Am I overpersuaded in thinking that you — and you — 
and you remember those sunshiny mornings with tender 
gladness? that you can recall the lookout from the din- 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 27 

ing room windows, upon the old croquet ground, and 
the woods just beyond, fringed with chestnut and dog- 
wood? 

Yes ! I can see your smile, as you say dreamily — 
''Dogwood, dogwood ? Oh, yes ! I think I do remem- 
ber the dogwood ! It grew so gracefully along the edge 
of the old woods ! And its blossoms were so white 
against the dark trees !" 

And what are we going to do to-day?" one or an- 
other would ask, glancing from the windows, or reclin- 
ing lazily in an easy-chair, with an after-breakfast cigar. 
Were there ever any cigars quite as fragrant as those 
we smoked in the old home ? Easy, cozy old home ! 
where we all did pretty much as we pleased! But we 
pleased to please. 

And so we talked, and questioned, and decided. 

And the morning and the evening were another day. 

Ah ! those happy days ! 

In these days, we do not ask gaily, ''What shall we 
do to-day?" 

We rise up, square our shoulders to the appointed bur- 
den, and say, ''7 must do thus and so to-day !" "Such 
and such a duty is awaiting me!" 

And we breathe a prayer for grace and strength to 
acquit ourselves worthily. 

Yet we have those sweet, old memories — the morning 
prayer, and the bright breakfast room! 

None can ever take them from us ! 

They were such simple pleasures; yet, as we look 
back, nothing seems to have touched us with such a ten- 
der radiance. We have been in the depths, and on the 



28 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

heights : yet how the thought of those old merry days 
dings to us! 

And we bow our tired heads, repeating that old peti- 
tion: 

"As Thou in thine Infinite Wisdom, seest we each 
need." 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 29 



VIII. 

"Oh! I can remember farther back than that!" says 
our Thoughtful One, looking over my shoulder, as I 
write. 

"Yes !" agrees Miss Fan. ''Don't you remember one 
who was not young with us, yet who was ever ready to 
join in our games, to laugh at our jokes, and to be one 
with us, in ail things ; who was not young ; yet whose 
hair had not a silver thread when she left the Home?" 

Yes, dear comrades. I, too, remember. How long 
ago it seems ! Even the Englishman cannot remember 
that. I wish he could ! 

We were such veritable children in those days — those 
far-off, hazy days. We wrote medleys on popular and 
interesting topics, setting them to familiar tunes, so that 
we might all sing them. 

I have a vision of three, in the frenzy of poetical ef- 
fort, collaborating a parody upon "Annie Laurie," bring- 
ing in a neighboring bachelor's name, with much discre- 
tion and more laughter. 

Oh, silly children ! whose nonsense was only made 
tolerable by her gentle smile of understanding! 

She it was who bequeathed to one among us the sweet 
knack of verse-making. She was not, perhaps, what 
the world calls a Poet ; but she lived Poetry. And to- 
day her children — all they of the old Home — rise up to 
call her blessed ! 

******** 

"Good evening, genteel lady, always genteel; I, a one- 
horned gentleman, always one-horned, come from this 



30 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

three-horned lady, always three-horned, to tell you that 
she has " 

What jargon is this, sounding in my ears, from out 
that far past? 

Jargon, indeed ! Did not she^ our best and loveliest, 
join in that very game? 

Indeed she it was who taught it to us, during those 
earliest of long twilights, as we sat, dim and happy, in 
the room where no lights were allowed, for as long as 
decency permitted ! 

Some folks, I have heard, "love darkness, rather than 
light ; because" — well, never mind ! 

We loved that fading light because it held such ten- 
der joy, such abandon of mirth, such full scope for all 
that the glorious daylight kept hidden under her daz- 
zling wings ! 

Dear twilight ! We love it yet ! for then we can let 
our tears flow f reely,^ — thinking of those old days ; and 
nobody is the wiser! 

But listen ! "Good evening, six-horned gentleman — 
always six-horned! I, a genteel lady, always genteel, 
come to tell you " 

Ah ! — a horn for my genteel lady ! — for she has blun- 
dered in her haste. 

Amid the uproar and laughter, a paper horn is 
fastened in my lady's tresses, and she becomes a one- 
horned lady, — and so, the ridiculous game goes on. 

Ridiculous, did I say? 

Perhaps. But I tell you truly, we have placed those 
horns in the wise young heads (more properly speak- 
ing, in the short hair) of theological students, deacons 
of the church, business men who have since become rich 
and famous; also among the tresses of dainty girls and 
women who have since stood in life's high places, dis- 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 31 

pensing graciously, on every hand, the gifts which en- 
noble and uplift mankind. 

These, I know, when they read this record, will, each 
and every one, smile tenderly at the sweet old nonsense, 
so well remembered, and will add their word of testi- 
mony to my story of those long-past days. Isn't that 
so, "Sam Patch?" you of the curly locks, whose "horns" 
were so difficult to insert! 



32 DO YOU REMEMBER? 



IX. 

"Good morning, seven-horned lady !" called the Sweet 
Tenor's voice ; his happy, morning voice. "All right, in 
the morning," always ! 

"Greetings, genteel Tenor, always genteel ! It is so 
much easier to be that than to be striking balls in the 
dark! Isn't it?" 

"Certainly. You are always right, except But 

we won't argue." No ; we did not hold our arguments 
in the morning. He had a peculiar way, this Sweet 
Singer of ours, who loved an argument, as did some 
others among us, of ending any such discussion by call- 
ing out — "Buttons!" which meant — "No more debating! 
no more words !" But he usually prefaced his "But- 
tons !" by a softly spoken "I am right !" — then "But- 
tons !" 

We loved him so well that we were quite willing he 
should have his own way, and the best of the argument. 

Now, don't dispute me, some of you, who remember! 
When I say "we," I mean those of us who knew his real, 
intrinsic worth. I wonder if he has found others a« 
pliant as loyal, since those glad, old times? 

What arguments we used to hold, in those days ! 
Churchly, and otherwise. One great question, which 
some of us were fond of discussing, was this : whether 
a man should marry on "eight hundred a year." 

How our Englishman used to laugh, and shake his 
head, at the very idea ! 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 33 

And certainly, among the females (notably the Easy- 
going One) there were one or two who stoutly main- 
tained that the thing could be done without a doubt, and 
well done, too ! 

Romance and common sense held battle in the Young 
Churchman's heart. ''Eight hundred a year — well, he 
did not know! — and yet — and yet" — with a tender 
glance at — some one — "if two were agreed," etc. 

"Certainly !" proclaimed our Big Boy earnestly. "Not 
a doubt about it! If two are agreed and love each 
other!" — (a chuckle from our EngHshman!) 

'Well ! isn't love the— the " 

"Fulfilling of the law?" some one mischievously sug- 
gests. 

"Yes! Love is everything! — and if two people really 
love each other, they can do anything, and live happily 
on eight hundred a year — or less!" This from our Big 
Boy, who is nothing if not emphatic. 

A general uproar of voices and laughter. In the 
midst of which the Big Boy is to be seen chasing our 
Wise One around the centre table; and the Tenor is 
heard to cry "Buttons!" 

N. B. : This manoeuvre around the centre table (an 
old-fashioned, comfortably large one) is a veritable fact. 
I call to testify to the truth of this statement certain of 
those who were eye-witnesses of the same : to wit — our 
Sweet Singer, the Easy-going One, Miss Fan, and pos- 
sibly the Little Housekeeper ! 

Such foolish things were done, in those young days ! 
and Why ! I had almost forgotten one notable wit- 
ness of that "physical culture" feat! — our Douglass, the 
Scotchman ! the bonnie young lad, whom we all loved 
to have among us I He was, indeed, a pleasant com- 
panion in our merry mid-summer sports. If I remember 



34 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

rightly, he, too, has meekly borne a few '^horns/' as the 
"Genteel Lady, always genteel" — pinned them in his 
pretty, wavy locks. 

"Douglass, Douglass, tender and true!" 

Do you think of us, ever, as we think of you ? 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 35 



X. 

"The days are too short !" some one says, as the Celi 
bate lights a match, to throw some illumination upon an 
obscure wicket. 

Yes; if we had not such very delightful evenings to 
follow, we should certainly rebel ! 

But what evenings! 

Dear, long-ago friends, comrades, I feel I must thank 
you for making them so very delightful ! 

I wish I might see you, at this minute, — every one 
of you — enter, and pass before me, looking as you looked 
then ! 

Ah ! what a goodly array ! 

Why, you Little Sister, following ever close behind 
our dear Soprano, could make a story of it all ! You 
were ever good at spying out our peculiarities and our 
odd ways ! and though you might smile at us, you were 
never unkind — never. Little Sister ! 

I think I see you two, leading oi¥ my array of long- 
ago friends : you, who were wont to walk arm in arm up 
and down the long parlor ! 

A few, out of all that dear and goodly company, I 
may, perhaps, miss in passing. But if I do, it will only 
be because they themselves were so modest in those 
merry days, that they stood more in the shadow than 
some of us. 

Let me see: There was "Love-by-Name," — loyal, 
sincere, ready for every good and helpful work. He has 
since gone to his reward. 



36 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

There was, too, "The German ;" so modest, then, in 
the midst of our foolish hilarity — our "negligences and 
ignorances." 

He has, since, taken on great earthly position and 
honor ; and we are glad ! he deserves it ! 

There were those three sisters, who, then and since, 
have enjoyed everything together. A charming trio, 
who add grace to my list, and for whom we often longed, 
in those merry days, when they were such rare visitors. 

Their brother, too — a great, manly fellow, whom the 
world missed all too soon — according to our feeble 
thinking. But we do not now see and know, as we shall, 
some day ! 

There was the Grecian Girl, with her charming com- 
plexion and her mass of sunny hair. 

Ah ! and that brave, young Southerner ! Can you not 
see him now, as he marched side by side with the Big 
Boy, in the Processional, when the corner-stone of the 
little church was laid? 

He has since then, indeed, "marched to victory," as 
he sang on that day ; marched, and entered in, with se- 
rene, uplifted face, through peril which swept away so 
many tokens of his earthly labors ! 

But God keeps the record; and nothing is ever lost 
or forgotten. 

There was Frank, the "Jo^^y One" of our company, 
who had ever a joke or a jest ready, to enliven us. Dur- 
ing many a row on the shining river, as he deftly han- 
dled the oars, so deftly did he handle the jokes. It is 
not always given to men to do this. Some of them bun- 
gle, terribly, in their jesting. He never did. 

But, alas ! as the years passed on, he forgot to smile 
and to joke! Was it that the doors of the old home had 
closed upon all the mirth and merriment? He was es- 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 37 

sentially a home-loYer. And I sometimes think that he 
missed a home. That is always sad for a man. A 
woman can make herself a home anywhere : she has that 
within her which can build up, and beautify, and con- 
secrate a home in any dull spot of earth ! But it is not 
so with men. They need the warm, bright spot, all 
adorned and ready for them ; its comforts sure, its min- 
istering spirit just there, for them to turn to in any hour 
of need or weariness. Ah ! my old comrade, / knom! 

I have just at this moment learned of the death of our 
old friend. 

His cheery voice and the words of his old jokes echo 
back to me across the years. 

I lay my little loving tribute upon his too early grave. 



38 DO YOU REMEMBER? 



XI. 

I am sad — thinking of our merry friend. Why should 
we ever grow old, and weary, and morose? 

Why must perplexity and doubt and loss and dis- 
appointment come? 

God alone knows ! May He give us the patience we 
need ! Yes, friend Frank, we have none of us escaped 
the shadows ; not one of us been exempt, since those old, 
foolish days of youth ! 

''Into each life 

Some rain must fall!" 

Yes, — and a good bit of sunshine, too ! Oh, my com- 
rades, let us sit in the light, and pursue our merry jokes 
as long as we can ! It will help others, as well as our- 
selves. 

I remember Frank's sister. She came among our 
merry crowd only once — to our great regret ! But how 
bright she was ! 

Do you recall how she sang to us, that bright morning, 
full of joy and zest although we had been out late the 
previous night? 

That was — oh, so many years ago ! But to-day she, 
who has passed through hard and shadowed ways, is 
still the same bright-faced woman, whose interest in life 
has not once wavered, and who is cheery and helpful to 
all about her. 

He faltered ; she conquered ! 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 39 

And yet, — and yet, — while we bow our heads before 
the one who conquered Hfe, do not our hearts yearn 
over him who "fainted by the way?"' 



I recall a game which we were wont to play occa- 
sionally in those merry, mid-winter evenings; and which 
sounded like this : 

"My father sent me to you, sir!" 

"What to do, sir?" 

"To work with one, as I do!" — or "with two" or 
*'three" etc., as the game went on. 

I have been thinking that our bright girl friend of 
long ago has "worked with" every talent which was at 
her command ; and so has made her life symmetrical and 
fine. 

As I recall that foolish old game, how the faces pass 
before me of those who had a part in it! Laughing, 
merry faces, they were then, young and careless. How 
Time's relentless hand has carved and moulded them 
since those days of games and pleasures ! 

Do you remember how emphatic the Big Boy always 
was in that game? 

He has made life very emphatic since then, bringing 
out its glorious colors, setting forth its grandeur, its no- 
bility, its possibilities, and leading the way by hard paths 
and through rugged and shadowy roads with his own 
vigorous tread ! 

How many others I recall, as I think over those glad 
old days which we spent together in the home on the 
hill ! How many, who came to gladden our hearts by 
their stay, for longer or shorter; whose presence there 
brought happiness to all ! 

How many! from the dear old Aunty, with her gray 



40 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

curls, her unfailing "patchwork," and her thorough en- 
joyment of all our fun, down to the little children, who 
came and went, bringing in the sunlight with their tod- 
dling feet and sweet, lisping words ! 

We were all of us more or less children in those old 
days — care-free, and full of confidence in what the Fu- 
ture might bring us. 

How understanding^ the old Aunty used to smile at 
our fun and our sentiment ! Every one loved her. I 
think she was an especial favorite with our Tenor. And 
he, with the rest of us, called her, without rebuke, "Aunt 
Sally." I think she scented a romance in the air when 
the Young Churchman would come in, with a sigh, and 
seat himself in the big armchair, near her, keeping a 
longing look through the always-open hall door, when a 
soft footstep sounded upon the stairs. 

Ah ! the romances ! the air was full of them ! 

And if some of them came to naught, why, we have 
had the joy, and the sunlight, and the music of it all. 
And it has not made our hearts hard, nor saddened our 
thoughts in the least, of those dear, long-past days ! 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 41 



XII. 

Speaking of romances, who was that one among" us 
who was wont to sit in the broad window seat, watch- 
ing — watching — could it be the sunset f 

"What do you see, Sister Anne?^' 

"Oh, I thought perhaps he might come on this train!" 

"He!'' — only one he, in all the world, for her ! Loyal 
one! Trains, or sunsets, — it mattered not at all! 
Through all she saw — only him! 

Do you remember those western windows? — the deep, 
low seats? How often we have sat there, chatting, 
gossiping, looking forward to a Future as bright as the 
sunset which we loved so well! 

I think I can see her now, with some pretty work as 
an excuse, taking a stray stitch now and then, and ever 
looking — looking — for that manly form, which to her 
embodied every quality the heart of a woman could de- 
sire! 

Poor women! What deluded creatures they are! 
How they dress up some one man or another, with the 
fine fabric of their love, and stand near by, to gaze and 
admire — not him — not the man he is — but the ideal they 
have created in their tender hearts: oftentimes not the 
man who loves them, but the man whom they love! 

Poor, foolish, trusting women ! 

But we love them, for all their folly ! 



42 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

The Thoughtful One was another sunset-lover. Un- 
like, oh, quite unlike our tender, romantic watcher, "Sis- 
ter Anne," she was not also a lover of sunrise! No 
beauty of that early kind ever appealed to her! She 
wanted the world well warmed and in order, before she 
rose up to look upon it ! 

As for Sister Anne, she could face gray dawn and 
chilly eastern skies with a smiling, expectant face; and 
declaim, afterward, to us delinquents, upon the beauties 
which we had missed ! 

Dear Sister Anne ! She is now in That Wondrous 
Land, where "the sun goes not down," and where there 
is "no night!" 

Would you miss your loved sunsets There, my 
Thoughtful One? 

Nay, I think not; for nothing is ever "missed" 
There ! 

So enjoy your evening skies here, dear friend ; and let 
us enjoy them with you, while we may ! 

"There are more of us There than here," wrote our 
Big Boy the other day. 

Ah ! can it be possible ? More There than here ? Yet 
they seem so near! 

And while I sit writing of those foolish old days, of 
their games, their nonsense, their romances, what do 
they think of me ? those loved ones There ? 

Do I need to ask pardon of those dear hearts, whose 
dwelling is in That Far, Pure Land? 

Nay, rather, I think I can see the smiles upon their 
serene faces, as I make record of all those merry days 
and doings ; those sweet romances, which perchance 
came to naught — and perchance will last into Eternity! 

No, there is neither scorning nor shame upon those 
dear faces, as I think upon them. But the Light from 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 43 

their Blest Abiding Place reaches me faintly, as I sit 
here, pen in hand; and I bow my head, praying" that it 
may touch you all, who are yet in the mists here below, 
waiting for the Word to be spoken, that you, too, may 
pass over! 



44 DO YOU REMEMBER? 



XIII. 

What a practical man our Celibate was ! 

It was well, perhaps, that there came, now and then, 
one of a practical turn amongst us. 

For we were surely a sentimental company ! We are 
not ashamed to own it — even at this late day — are we, 
my friends? 

Did not the Little Sister have her budding romances, 
even then? And our Soprano was an epitome of sweet 
sentiment. 

The Easy-Going One was overflowing with rare 
thoughts of devotion and tenderness. 

The Young Churchman — ah ! — well, you all know how 
he wore his heart on his sleeve ! Dear fellow ! Never 
mind! He has done well, and stands — next to the 
Bishopric, now! 

One doesn't like to be called sentimental. But we 
were ! all the same. The strange part of it all, as we 
look backward to those sunny days — and forward to the 
practical, real Present — is this, of which we make honest 
record : The Celibate has married ! The Young Church- 
man has turned the page upon his romance, and smiles 
at life, as it keeps him to-day, at his steady, practical, 
common duties ! The Easy-going One and the Big Boy 
neither of them live on "eight hundred a year!" Our 
Sweet Soprano and her Little Sister are each calmly con- 
tent and happy with their uncompleted romances! And 
the Little Housekeeper declares that the joy of life con- 
sists in sitting down to read a good book, and letting 
some one else plan the dinner I 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 45 

Alas, what falls have these all had ! 

We were not overmuch troubled about "dinners" in 
those days. But we did, sometimes, stake our all upon a 
Picnic ! 

How we watched the clouds ! How we buttered ham 
sandwiches, with an eye upon the western sky! That 
is to say, we buttered with our hands, while our eager 
eyes scanned the western heavens, to see what prospect 
they held for our projected trip to the banks of the 
river or to the Falls ! 

Even "John, the man," was called in consultation. 
Poor John ! Once, he was overpersuaded. He saw 
how much we wanted it to be bright ; and he decided for 
us that it would clear. 

And it did not! It poured all day ! 

He never recovered from the shock! Ever afterward, 
when a picnic was planned, or a ride, if his opinion were 
desired as to the state of the weather, John would look 
meek and say '7 adwised yees once ! I'll niver ad- 
wise yees again !" 

Faithful John! May all advisers be as true and as 
honest ! 

Yes, we had picnics. They were jolly affairs. They 
made us hungry ! How we used to eat ! 

Why, I remember once, when one of us (honor for- 
bids me to say which one!) had eaten heartily of vari- 
ous good things, that one turning to her comrades, de- 
manded, "What shall I take next?" Whereupon some 
one replied, "Take a rest!" 



46 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

There is a certain free-masonry in picnics. At least, 
there was in our picnics! But then, there never were 
any other picnics quite like unto ours! At least we 
thought so, then; and I do not believe we have found 
cause to change our opinion since 1 

Do you remember how an old-fashioned volume of 
"blue-and-gold" used to find a place among the eatables 
in the hamper? (Shelley — or Shelley not?" our 
Thoughtful One used to put it.) Puns were so easily 
made, — and so readily received, in those youthful days ! 

Do you remember that tall fellow, who used to delight 
in dropping stones down one of the crevices between 
great rocks, and listening as they struck far below ? 

He has, since then, been dropping words into the 
depths of human souls, to try to reach some sounding 
spot, whence the echo may rise to Eternity! 

Do you remember how the sunset haze crept over all 
the fair landscape, and how the "blue and gold" were 
melted and lost in the first faint shades of the coming 
night, ere we were ready to leave our happy picnic 
grounds, and to start on the homeward drive? 

Alas ! and alas ! It was all so long, long ago I 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 47 



XIV. 

We loved the long summer days best, at the old Home. 
Yet we have had some rare happiness when the winter 
snows were white all around. 

Do you remember, comrades, the New Year's Eve, 
when we went to the little Church, at midnight, to usher 
in the New Year? 

We climbed up into the belfry, and watches were 
drawn forth, to note the last minute of the Old Year. 

Then — Ah ! the hand that pulled that bell rope, to ring 
the New Year in, has lain restful many a day — taken 
from our grasp, and from the doing of all kindly deeds ! 

But we do not forget! 

As soon as the strokes were completed, which num- 
bered the year, Lx)ve-By-Name reverently lifted his hat, 
leading in that mark of recognition of The Giver of the 
Old Year and the New, and we sang : 

"Praise God, from whom all blessings flow." 

Can you not see him now ? I can ! He was not given 
to any outward show. He was very self-contained, and 
that is why we so appreciated that little act of reverence, 
leading many of us, who, while professing more, were 
certainly more giddy and thoughtless. At least, I speak 
for myself! And I drop, like a flower upon his grave, 
this small token of loyal friendship to his memory, who 
left us many years ago. How few we find like him, 
among the young men of to-day. He was so correct, so 



48 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

true, so wise, so gentle! really a gentleman; and what 
higher praise can we give? 

Very often that scene in the dim belfry comes back to 
my memory. And how plainly before me arise the faces 
of those who stood there in the light of the lanterns ! 

Notably our dear "Prima Donna," with her eager, 
English way, and her enthusiasm for all that was good 
and seemly. 

Ah, how true she is yet, to the little Church, which 
has also seen many changes ! 

He who serves now, at the altar, is not our Young 
Churchman of the dear old days. Yet she is there, 
still, in her pew at the services, regularly, and full of 
plans for help ! We are shamed — some of us, when we 
think of it ! 

Three, out of the half dozen or more who stood in the 
belfry that New Year's Eve, have "gone up higher." 
We are left — to remember ! remember ! 



Those were early days, at the little Church. She was, 
like ourselves, young. And every one was ready with 
plans for helping her grow and thrive. 

I recall the tall form of the Quaker City gentleman, 
with his earnest wife, and three daughters, who counted 
nothing too hard, so it was done for the Church! 

And their dear boy! one only, yet unspoiled, who was 
ready for every good work! 

Ah! we do not see families, whole families, working 
like that for love of the Church, in these days ! It is as 
rare as it is beautiful. 



Speaking of the church in the woods, I wonder, my 
comrades, if you remember the Doctor f 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 49 

In truth, it would be hard to forget him, as we recall 
those good, old days ! 

He was a modest little man : never thrust himself. 
But oh ! when he came, somehow, things were straight- 
ened out and pleasant. One needed not to be "a pa- 
tient," to gain his kindly word of attention. Oh, no! 
As a friend, he was — perfect ! Why, of course ! — you all 
know that ! Don't you rememherf My Englishman will 
testify to the truth of what I say. 

Our Young Churchman knows it well. 

And many and many another ''lesser light" will be 
glad to place a tribute of affection upon that little spot 
of earth where rests all that was mortal of our dear 
Doctor ! 

Many, many still live, to bless him for his tender skill 
as a physician ! 

Can't you see him, as he walked up the aisle of the 
little Church, carrying the plate, at the Offertory" ? 

He loved the services of the little Church. 

And w^e loved him! 



Dear little Church! How many sweet associations 
cluster about it! 

May God bless and prosper it, till it is joined with 
"The Church Triumphant," within the walls of the New 
Jerusalem ! 



50 DO YOU REMEMBER? 



XV. 

"Why! you are growing sad," some one cries. 

Well, and if so? Who can look backward, without a 
tinge of sadness falling across his vision Who so 
happy, that he has escaped loss or defeat or disappoint- 
ment? Come, my comrades, answer! 

Is it not enough to make one sad? to find change — 
change — written along all the way — from the dear days 
of fun and care-free play, on to the prosaic present? 

But hark ! dear comrades. We are not to mourn ; since 
such a dear Past stands ever smiling at us, when we 
choose to turn back the pages ! 

"Onward" may be the cry of some eager hearts ; but 
for me, it is ever Backward! When the pulse is low, 
and the shadows fall, and friends seem few and far away, 
backward, to the days when youth's heartbeats rang 
joyously, and the sunHght glow was upon ever3^hing, and 
friends were close and true ! 

What fairest Present can ever touch us with such a 
tender, lingering grasp? 

What? Do I want more "picnics," more sails on the 
river, more Monday holidays — with no young clergyman 
to consecrate them — more games and "Rounds" and 
songs sentimental, "in night's still calm?" 

Yes ! I think so. And you? 

Can you not see the smile slowly dawning upon the 
Champion Player's face, as he thinks of it? 

Do you not hear the Englishman's quiet chuckle as 
he contemplates it? 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 51 

See the Young Clergyman's grave face brighten as he 
wonders "how it would feel" to stand on that wide green 
lawn again, and hear the click — dick of the mallets, — 
and in between, the soft notes of the robins calling to 
their mates ! 

"Sam Patch" — dear old comrade ! You would be glad, 
I know, to fold back the years, and be a boy again, 
among those merry hearts, those loyal ones, who are 
true to you still, for all that you have found the world's 
highway a difficult road. May the lights from that old 
home shine out, and reach you yet, making the way clear 
and straight! 

And "the girls !" We always called them girls : it 
was our freedom time of youth, you see; and the old 
home was — such a home to us all ! I think I see them 
lift their matronly faces, as I wonder if they would like 
to go back to those old days — those dear, foolish days of 
picnics and of sails, of songs and of romance; those 
careless, merry days, when we ate and laughed — and 
laughed and ate again ! 

The Little Housekeeper has told me of a queer episode, 
which seemed to result from one of our "picnics." In 
fact, we all heard of it, in the morning. But, as our 
Sweet Tenor used to say, we were "all right in the 
morning;" and so the recital only brought laughter and 
mirth. 

I tell the tale as 'twas told to me ! 

We had all retired early, weary with pleasure. In 
the wee small hours, a cry from Miss Fan roused the 
Little Housekeeper, who went to the rescue. 

"What is it?" she asked. 

"We are all — sickT replied a weak voice that resem- 
bled our Miss Fan's. 

She who was always so ready with a reason for every 



52 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

happening had nothing to offer, on this occasion! It 
was an unheard of calamity! 

Well, the Little Housekeeper brought remedies, and 
sat herself down to be sympathetic. 

Miss Fan, casting about for some solution to the mys- 
tery, weakly remarked, "What can it be ? We didn^'t eat 
anything!" 

Which, to those present, who knew how much and 
what variety of food had been disposed of, was a strange 
remark! But they were probably not in a state of mind 
or body to induce argument. 

I am told that quiet reigned — until presently a weak 
laugh was heard from the pillow of the Thoughtful 
One. 

"She says we did not eat anything!" was her expla- 
nation. 

And as the little group of the sick and the sympa- 
thetic took in the enormity of that statement, well — 
"there was a sound of revelry by night !" 

Hadn't eaten anything, indeed ! Who knew about 
that, better than the small housekeeper herself? She 
may have cast a reproachful glance upon her friend, 
Miss Fan : I do not know. 

But I do know that we were not usually delinquent in 
that way ; and that whatever may have been the cause of 
the midnight calamity — we were at least blameless on 
that score ! 

Hadn't eaten anything! Oh, Miss Fan! 



DO YOU REMEMBER? S3 



XVI. 

But, like our dear Tenor, we were "all right in the 
morning." 

Trouble never lasted over night, in those blissful days. 
At least, ours did not ! 

I dare not say as much for the poor Young Church- 
man! 

The Little Housekeeper has confided to me some pages 
in his history of those days, which go to show that his 
trouble did sometimes stay with him through the night, 
and into the sunny morning hours. 

But ah ! — he was young, and youth conquers all 
things — even love ! 

Look at him, now, to see it proven ! Portly, practical, 
philosophical — and — grandfatherly ! Why, our Young 
Churchman, we scarcely recognize you ! But we are 
glad for you (and for her) that the problem of life 
is solved, and that each of you fills so well the place 
which God designed for you — and you alone ! 

How often we try, — in our blind, human, sentimental 
way — ^to usurp the Father's place, and plan and carve 
our own future! We always fail, or, worse, drag some 
one else down with our presumption. 

Let us be content (it is easier now that we have left 
impetuous youth so far behind us ! ) and stand humbly 
aside, while our wise Father plans for us ! 

What say you, our Thoughtful One? Am I not 
right? I am sure you will uphold me in this. You are 



U t)0 YOU REMEMBER? 

— you always were — a stronger Christian than I — 
stronger in every way. 

Often, when I think of those old days, and of the 
Young Churchman and his love affair, which so en- 
grossed all our young hearts, I recall how one wise com- 
rade, who came among us occasionally, used to say of 
our Young Churchman, ''There is good blood there. 
Good blood always tells !" 

And he was right. I am convinced now of that. Our 
Young Churchman could trace back his ancestry, oh, to 
those early days, when 

'Tre— Pol and Pen 

Were among the upper ten!" 

Our dear companion, who is now in that Paradise to 
which he so often helped to lead others, was much given 
to favoring good old blood; and was particularly inter- 
ested in family trees, whose branches twined and spread 
and grew with such precision that one could trace back 
to the earliest little twig where the sap ran — ''blue." 

Ah me ! Well, the Young Churchman wears his dig- 
nities now like a true-blooded gentleman. 

And are we not glad, my comrades, that we used 
sometimes, in those merry days, to greet him with 
smiles of sympathy, to encourage him, and perhaps 
carry him off lor a game of croquet; letting the birds 
and the breezes and the soft sunshine whisper to him of 
hope and of Love's young dream? 

We all gained much good from those sweet Nature 
comforters. Not that we owned to needing much in the 
way of comfort in our buoyant youth and inexperience! 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 55 

Still, the soft, helpful beauty crept into our souls un- 
consciously; and there we found it, in later days, when 
the stress and press of life had worn upon us, and the 
far-off shadows began to edge surely— surely — toward 
our sunshine. 

After all, dear comrades, what would our sunshine 
be, without its shadow to set it off? We at least have 
learned so much, since we played croquet together ! 

Possibly some other lessons have been learned by 
some of us. 

We have grown meek, perhaps, and are willing to be 
taught. At least, I recall one whom the Celibate used 
to try to persuade to think and calculate, before she 
struck her ball. But his calm, calculating style did not 
suit her at all ! And do any of you remember how, 
once, in flouting his very deliberate "Now, wait, Miss" — 
Impulse, she struck her foot instead of the ball? 

She has hurt herself many times since, by driving the 
ball too hastily! 

But the Celibate has held the even tenor of his way ! 

She smiles sometimes at him. But she knows he is 
right ! 



56 DO YOU REMEMBER? 



XVII. 

Did we ever have rainy days ? Yes, indeed ! Long, 
blessed days of rain ; while, inside the Home, the sun 
shone on; and we could read aloud and work and talk, 
to our heart's content ! 

Do you remember the long room at the top of the 
house, where we set up our Rainy-day Croquet? 

I can see our Champion Player's rare smile, now, as 
he took his mallet in hand, to do valorous things on the 
smooth floor ! 

Do you remember the Artist among us, and how she 
made a picture of our indoor croquet ground ? 

I verily believe that the picture cguld be found now — 
a little sketch, tucked away in some far corner of the 
Champion Player's desk! He had a corner in his heart, 
— a far corner — where sentiment was securely hidden 
away from all curious eyes ! But we — some of us — 
knew well that it was there! Some good men are that 
way. Why is it? Do they think sentiment too sacred 
a thing to be expressed and shown openly? Perhaps. 
But some of us think it better to let our light shine in 
this cold, practical old world of ours, that so, perchance, 
some chilled hearts may be warmed by its glow. 

I remember how our Big Boy (who was nothing, if 
not openly sentimental) used to be really vexed at the 
Champion because, by his cold, indifferent manner, he so 
often hid a truly tender emotion. 

Perhaps, in these late days, when the gray hairs min- 
gle with the black, our Champion may occasionally take 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 57 

out that little sketch, and smile, thinking of those long 
gone, merry times. 

The Artist, oh, where is she? In the mother coun- 
try, doing faithful duty, as the wife of a clergyman (not 
our Young Churchman). 

Does she ever recall those happy old days, I wonder? 



And yet another : she the Fearless One — who once had 
the courage to dance with our Young Churchman! 

How we wondered at her audacity ! and how he en- 
joyed it! and how truly graceful they both were! She 
so petite, he so tall and dignified. 

Well, she has had many gay dances, in her young life, 
and though she has since walked some weary steps, she 
has not lost her old zest for pleasure, nor her bright 
sympathy for youth and its joys. 

What a dear, good fellow he was, who walked by her 
side for so many happy years ! 

He was the ready helper for each one of us, watching 
for opportunities to do a kindness. But to her he was 
ever the loyal, devoted, tender husband ! 

How he could laugh ! And a laugh is a very excellent 
index to character. Ah ! that old, care-free, fooHsh 
laughter ! 

Perhaps it might seem strange, now, even silly, to see 
a half dozen or more of ordinarily sensible people, con- 
vulsed with laughter; and laughter which had no spe- 
cial cause or excuse, either! — just the outlet of a pure 
jollity. 

Could we laugh so, now? with all this jar and fret of 
life that has struck across the music of our souls ? 

How it would rest us, if we could! How it would 
cheer our hearts ! 



58 DO YOU REMEMBER? 

Dear cousin, comrade, friend, do they laugh, in That 
Far Land where you have gone? 

The fragrance of the flowers comes back to me, 
through the long years, the flowers in the garden, which 
were plucked daily, to brighten the home. 

It breathes about me, like a soft voice, whispering — 
whispering of those old days ! 

How the vines grew and clambered over the piazza, 
carrying their beauty and their sweetness up to the win- 
dows above, where we breathed it, last at night, and 
first in the morning. 

The tendrils seem clinging softly about me, as I write 
and remember. 

The vines, and the moonlight, and the soft breezes, 
and the steps upon the lawn, and the robins' good night 
song, so simple, so sweet! 

Have I anything more to say ? 

Why, comrades, I could talk on forever! 

Do you see how the dogwood strikes out pale and 
distinct, along the edge of the dark woods? 

How the moon looks down upon it all, with tender 
glances, beautifying, and covering defects? 

Perhaps, so will you look upon these jottings of mine, 
you comrades of long ago; your loyalty casting a glow 
over all that is poor and weak; your smiles brightening 
that which might otherwise be dull and commonplace. 

Was it around that comer by the old barn — the bam 
with the saucy, brazen rooster upon its cupola — that 
Miss Fan and another comrade went hand in hand, one 
night, after a row on the river? 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 59 

How the dark and silent trees bent their branches 
low, as they passed beneath, as if assuring them of their 
fealty and support 1 

It was the Sweet Singer, I think, whom they were 
eluding; and who went softly into the house later, with 
a puzzled look upon his usually serene face. 

He entered the lighted parlor, glanced round at the 
company, and asked a question or two, half revealing, 
half concealing his discomfiture. 

They went strolling in, one after another, the merri- 
ment in their faces and the river air among their tresses. 
What a glow and gladness youth can take from such 
simple joys ! 

The Scotchman was there, that evening. Do you re- 
member? And how he enjoyed our nonsense and our 
hilarity ! 

He had not left his own romance so very far behind, 
and he sympathized with us keenly. He carried in his 
breast pocket pictures of his wife and two bonnie boys I 
Does not that tell the story? — a blessed story, which 
the hard old world does not hear often enough ! 

He was one of those rare, quiet men, whom every one 
loved and honored. We meet such men, now and then, 
in our busy, hurrying life — ^men who seem to give us the 
keynote to all that is noble and elevating. Just to be 
in the presence of such men helps all mankind. 

We have lost all trace of our good Scotchman. 

Time makes such changes, we scarcely dare to turn 
and look, lest a dear familiar one has vanished from our 
ken. 



That was the summer in which Tod and the Thought- 
ful One were in Europe. 



6o DO YOU REMEMBER? 

A long beautiful summer. Yet we missed them 
sadly ! 

Some one among us used to play the concertina. Do 
you remember? 

Do you see the sunlight flickering through the trees, 
touching his tall figure ? 

We had a good deal of music in those old days, of 
one kind and another. Do the strains ever come float- 
ing back to you in these present times, when, perhaps, 
we have attained a higher degree of cultivation, but 
when indeed our hearts often long for the familiar melo- 
dies of long ago? 

Listen ! Can you not hear those clear, vibrating 
tones ? 

"Oh, fair Dove! 

Oh, fond Dove ! 

Oh, Dove, with the white, white breast." 

Why ! I have seen that very sheet of music some- 
where, quite lately ; and I know that it is very dearly 
prized because of a certain inscription on the top right- 
hand corner! 

These mute mementoes of happy bygone days, how 
some of us cherish them! Has anything in life touched 
us with a more tender grace than those youthful, merry 
hours ? 

"Dear, dead days !" our Thoughtful One calls them. I 
wonder if he ever sings now. 

"The dove on the mast. 

As we sailed fast, 

Did mourn and mourn and mourn." 



DO YOU REMEMBER? 6i 

It grows late. The moon is sailing serenely on high. 
Was it by that path (oh, you old, old moon, you can 
tell!) that we walked from the little church, and — 
well, never mind. We will not tell, old moon. But we 
know; you and I ! 

"How life repeats itself !" he said ! 

Does it? At least there never has come to us any 
repetition of those glad, care-free days. 

The years are fast passing. The golden gates of 
youth have closed to us, my old comrades. We can 
never return to those moonlit paths ! never stand again 
in that radiant sunshine ! — never enter more the doors of 
the dear old home on the hill ! 

But no time nor age nor change nor sorrow can take 
from us the sweet memory of those long-ago days ! 

*Tn night's still calm" it will return and speak to us ; 
and when we are "all right in the morning," we shall 
feel its soft touch upon our hearts. 

We shall breathe again the old fragrance, and hear 
the old, familiar voices ; and in our souls the old songs 
will sing themselves with a tender cadence. 



And for a last word to you all, my comrades who 
abide still in this strange old world of mingled shadow 
and sunlight, what can I offer better than that one peti- 
tion from the old prayer, which you and I have heard 
so many times, and risen from our knees with glad faces 
and joyous expectant hearts. 

"Suit out Thy mercies, oh Lord, to them and us, as 
Thou, in Thine Infinite Wisdom, seest we each need." 

Do you remember? 



OCT 13 1909 



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